I glanced at my watch; it had been fifty minutes. Even though we had been warned that it would take a long time before we felt anything, I was still starting to get worried. Maybe they were actually just crap. Was it possible that Sarah's guy had tried to screw her over? I doubted it, although I was starting to get anxious about it anyway.
I looked into the glass of what would be my first of many vodka redbulls for the night and saw that it was nearly empty. With one hand forward, I wormed my way through the crowds of people by slightly pushing them aside as I went. As I got closer I noticed Sarah was off to the outside corner of the bar, laughing hysterically, and I veered her way. The guy she was talking to looked like a complete bogan, backcountry tool, and I was surprised he had even been let inside. I was pretty sure that Sarah's laughs were being directed at him, and certainly not with him, but he didn't seem to notice. His lack of comprehension of the situation was most likely making her laughter even more uncontrollable.
"You doin' alright there Sarah?" I yelled. Stretching your vocal cords to their absolute limits is the only way you could possibly be heard when inside a club that pumped house music to a decibel level that could shatter glass.
"Oh, there you are, love!!" she screamed back before she threw herself onto me and jammed her tongue down my throat, "So good to find you again, I was looking everywhere."
Obviously, I was her excuse to leave, but I wasn't going to let her off that easy, "Who's this you've found here?" I asked, a level of secretive scheming behind my eyes.
"Him, oh he's such a gentleman, he's gone and bought me a drink, but we've got to get going…um…Jacob—?"
"Jason here, mate. How you goin'?" His voice was vivaciously deep and quite hoarse; he barely had to raise it to be heard. I didn't believe it could possibly be his natural tone. It was as though he was trying desperately to seem like a no-fear, croc-fighting, true-blue Aussie bloke. I assumed that if I handed him an ekkie there wouldn't be too many neurons to do damage to his hardly-functioning mind. "You've got quite a girl here, you do. Mighty pretty, she is."
"That's very true," I replied, "I'll tell you what Jason. Since you were so kind to go and buy my girl Sarah a drink, I'm gonna have to go ahead and let you take her for spin on the dance floor, what'd'ya say?"
"Well, alright—," he started.
"Oh! No, really," Sarah had begun to catch onto my game, "Really, I shouldn't."
"Why not, baby?!? Jason seems like a great—," I cut myself off as I saw the bartender come close, "TWO VODKA REDBULL, PLEASE!"
I looked back at Sarah just in time to see her eyes light up with a mischievous glint, "Well OK, I guess your right, Monty," Sarah screamed back to Jason and I, much to Jason's delight. I knew better. She must have been up to something in order to ever agree to actually dancing with a bulky dimwit, "But Monty, honey, do you really think he'd be good enough for our threesome later tonight?" Ahhh, there it was. "I mean don't you usually like to screw smaller men? I think it'd be weird to add to our collection of videos with someone as muscular as him." She punctuated the word him with a seductive squeeze of his tree-trunk bicep.
Jason's face had began to alter into an unattractive jumble of confusion and horror. Sarah had definitely won; she had set the stage for a more fun moment than I and I couldn't deny her the victory. "Well I guess you're right, he is big," I replied as I watched him through a make-believe camera viewer made with my finger, "but I want to branch out, baby," my voice had acquired the stereotypical gay twinge, "I think his muscles could be fun!" And with this last comment I curled up next to him, nestling my head into his brick wall of a chest.
Jason was not very pleased by this. He flinged me back into the bar and I was caught by Sarah as he wailed, quite scared, "Aghhh! Don't touch me, faggot! My mates warned me this was a freckin' puff bar! Screw you two!!" With that, Jason pushed his way to the crowd and towards the stairs to exit.
We immediately burst into laughter.
"The swine they let in here these days!" Sarah commented in her best pompish British, accent. Then switching back to regular old Sarah, "Nice try, Monty, but I'm just more creative then you are!"
"I had to give you that one, it was too good!" I replied, with a bow of defeat. Just then I realized the bartender was impatiently trying to get my attention, "Sorry!" I screamed, "How much?"
"Seventeen-Fifty!…Still!" It seemed I must have been keeping her waiting for one second. Much too long in the time frame of a busy drink server.
I passed her the plastic orange bill and gave her a thumbs up to let her know she could keep the change. Tipping is practically unprecedented in Australia, so if you want to be on a bartender's good side it only takes a couple of bucks.
I decided it was time to let Sarah know why I had decided to come over. "It's now been—," I looked at my watch, "—an entire fucking hour!!! I'm starting to get worried 'bout these, girl. I'm not feeling a thing!"
"Yeah man, I know…listen my guy told me that they might take a long time so just chill out a bit, alright?"
"You know, I hear what you're saying but I just—well screw that—let's just down another one, yeah?" When I get impatient, I always want to take another so that I can guarantee that it is going to hit hard.
"Alright man," she replied, "but I am warning you. He did say they were wicked creepers… You sure you wanna take that risk?"
"Wait, I'm sorry?" I replied sarcastically, "Who am I talking to. I guess you've been gone for so long; — I forgot you were such a little bitch!"
She looked at me with a smile that I knew meant I better not ever under-judge her. This was one of the reasons I liked her so damn much. She was always going to stay right with me when it came to drugs. We had the same level of tolerance (and endurance), so we were always going to be hand for hand, drug for drug. "You have the baggy I gave you, yeah?"
I threw back the same smile that she had just given me a moment ago, and she busted out in laughter, "I've got three left," I said.
"Well than thanks for the drink, are you ready? Bottles—"
"What the fuck, guys? I'm still not feelin' nothing!" Perry had just come over.
"We were just dealin' with that," I yelled back, "We're gonna have another one. You in?"
"Well I might as well," he hollered back with disappointment echoing through his voice, "You just talked 'em up so much, Monty. I was expecting a bit more."
"Chill out man. I have faith in Sarah's boy; he won't be trying to mess with her, he's upfront, ya' know?" Even thought I was so close to Perry, I didn't mind telling a bit of a white lie if it meant him chilling out a bit. Even if the drugs weren’t working I still didn't want an entire party of people freaking out on me. Hopefully they would kick in the way they were advertised, "But come on are you in for another one or what? Let it hit us hard right?"
"Alright mate, I just snorted a half in the bathroom but… fuck it, right?"
What a good group of friends I had. Always ready for a bit more. It made an addict like me feel as though I wasn't being an addict when I couldn't help but drop one more… which would turn into two more, and three more, and again, again, 'til five a.m. two mornings later and someone passes out. Only then does everyone feel like you they can finally end their night. Until then, the drug binge will never end. Sick, huh?
As I reached into my pocket, fingering a nondescript plastic baggie of a size used almost explicitly for illegal drugs, I saw a slight Indian girl on the other end of the bar. I recognized her at once. She was gorgeous. Her light brown skin and non-stop smile made me feel as though I was watching an ancient Persian princess. Her petite frame was sending wild images through my head. My mouth was practically watering just thinking of the amazing things I could do to such a tiny rendering of the female form.
"Oi! Monty!" Perry jolted me out of my trance-like state of clandestine sexual desires, "You still with us, mate?"
"Last Night in Brizzy, Ecstasy Anyone" will be finished soon in Part5… hopefully.
-strongmonty
Disclaimer: Ecstasy is a serious drug. Ingestion of MDMA can cause extreme side effects. Get more information at: http://www.intheknowzone.com/ecstasy/chemistry.htm
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
A.C. Shit Holes of All Shit Holes
I came to Atlantic City expecting something. Looking back I'm not sure exactly just what that was... Action? Class? Cleanliness? Where did these expectations come from? I assume from my trips to Vegas and other casinos around the world. AC is a sad, sad world of dank, dark, broken lives. It is so depressing that these extravagant casinos, who are pulling in hundreds of millions in profits every year, cannot get together and put some money toward revitalizing the city. There is so much potential for this to be an amazing destination. It's Vegas on the beach, dammit! How do you screw that up?!? It feels as though they don't even try! Instead of a glamorous Vegas on the beach, it's as though the surgeons sliced off Vegas's lifeless conjoined fetus twin and proclaimed, "Hey dushebags! Come gamble!!!" I'm sorry to go to such horrifying lengths in my description, but it was necessary to convey my absolute disgust for a place that I was deeply looking forward to being able to experience first hand.
What of the unsuspecting international tourists? You hear a lot of French, German, and Russian. I feel so bad for these people, that they have taken their summer holiday and visited the U.S. only to end up in the armpit of America. Not only do I feel bad for their ruined vacation, but also embarrassed for my self as a U.S. citizen. This is a country that I hold a passport to. When they go home to their friends and family they will tell of a dirty city of greed, poverty and filthy beaches. It's all so much, you want to scream, "Wait! There is so much more to this country! Don't just use this as your example, keep traveling, see it all!"
It is not only the city's health and appearance that has been neglected by the casinos. The sad fact is that poker is not very well liked by casino management in Atlantic City, as they still hold the archaic attitude of poker being a "no-win" for the house. The general feeling from the people who frequent these rooms is that casino management couldn't care less about the poker player. Yet it seems as though this all might be about to change. With poker growing in popularity, one casino in AC is leading the pact in poker player appreciation. With the help of Bruce Dixon the Borgata has opened an 82-table room with plenty of action. The dealers keep their own tips are, for the most part, all quite fun, and accurate and very quick. When looking at the recent numbers at the other rooms across the city it is apparent that the Borgata has killed poker for the other casinos. With a little luck the others will now see there error of their ways and positive competition will create a better scene for both parties.
Unfortunately, as a poker player I'm ashamed by A.C.. I love this game. It is hard enough for people to get to like this game. I can't imagine trying to use AC as a platform to introduce poker to new players. Poker is an amazing game with so much to love and something for everyone. To make this city a "destination" for poker players, gives poker an overall bad name. We can only hope that as this city grows it begins to move in a more positive direction; a direction which poker players, U.S. citizens and the human race as a whole can be proud of.
-strongmonty
What of the unsuspecting international tourists? You hear a lot of French, German, and Russian. I feel so bad for these people, that they have taken their summer holiday and visited the U.S. only to end up in the armpit of America. Not only do I feel bad for their ruined vacation, but also embarrassed for my self as a U.S. citizen. This is a country that I hold a passport to. When they go home to their friends and family they will tell of a dirty city of greed, poverty and filthy beaches. It's all so much, you want to scream, "Wait! There is so much more to this country! Don't just use this as your example, keep traveling, see it all!"
It is not only the city's health and appearance that has been neglected by the casinos. The sad fact is that poker is not very well liked by casino management in Atlantic City, as they still hold the archaic attitude of poker being a "no-win" for the house. The general feeling from the people who frequent these rooms is that casino management couldn't care less about the poker player. Yet it seems as though this all might be about to change. With poker growing in popularity, one casino in AC is leading the pact in poker player appreciation. With the help of Bruce Dixon the Borgata has opened an 82-table room with plenty of action. The dealers keep their own tips are, for the most part, all quite fun, and accurate and very quick. When looking at the recent numbers at the other rooms across the city it is apparent that the Borgata has killed poker for the other casinos. With a little luck the others will now see there error of their ways and positive competition will create a better scene for both parties.
Unfortunately, as a poker player I'm ashamed by A.C.. I love this game. It is hard enough for people to get to like this game. I can't imagine trying to use AC as a platform to introduce poker to new players. Poker is an amazing game with so much to love and something for everyone. To make this city a "destination" for poker players, gives poker an overall bad name. We can only hope that as this city grows it begins to move in a more positive direction; a direction which poker players, U.S. citizens and the human race as a whole can be proud of.
-strongmonty
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Incoherent Late Night Acid/Drunken Induced Babble
Late last night I got quite inebriated. Sadly my laptop was opened and I began to write. It was all bullshit. Every word of it. Then again perhaps my sub conscience was trying to break out, another personality maybe. A person inside of me, a slice of my brain trying desperately to claw its way out. My last memory was opening the laptop; my next was waking up passed out on the floor.
That's enough of an intro. I hope you enjoy what I was mortified to find in the morning.
I have a child. Small. Very small. I look at it. I feel sorry. This little "ball of joy", Ha. ha, ha. How can this be my little ball of joy, this little freak. this thing... its not like me, not strong. this thing,, this being, this peice of life, this amorphous blog of life; it is not me.
it throws up on me. ughh... if that did not seem dipresed enough, i apoligize, it makes me feel such hatred for everything...perhaps i was not meant ot be a father. HA HA, of course i wasnt meant to be much. Not meant to be anything thaty could holld resonsiblity to anything that might hapen to live on this planet.
I owned a hampter once. After mal-nutieritoment and death i decided to own a snake instead. If the hampster could not live the snake – the stronger of the animal kingdom -- would out do it, and take its place. But instead my 13 yr old mind made it just as bad as the porr snke. when will parents intervien? When little sarah kills her goldfish time and time again (it wanted a walk) the rentals buy another. Sic Sic Sic.
I say not that i love animals, or that they diserve the same rights as humans; mearly that they too are animals. We are animals. We are animals. Let me say again... we are animals... We have been created by motyher earth to exist on her. But as a creation of mother earth we must understnad that we are a part of her. If we are a part of her, then we must except that we are then a part of nature. Do you agree? Fuck, No. Seriously. Do you agree? Are humans a part of nature? (think for a second; have we been created by nature?)
We are created ny nature. Nthing more nothing less. The dinosaurs may have killed them selves out with over eating. Does that mean we blame the dins for the lak of them. Nl. somethimes limet cjange can ge for the cod. I am not avitrctiang, just spreding afacts.
That's enough of an intro. I hope you enjoy what I was mortified to find in the morning.
I have a child. Small. Very small. I look at it. I feel sorry. This little "ball of joy", Ha. ha, ha. How can this be my little ball of joy, this little freak. this thing... its not like me, not strong. this thing,, this being, this peice of life, this amorphous blog of life; it is not me.
it throws up on me. ughh... if that did not seem dipresed enough, i apoligize, it makes me feel such hatred for everything...perhaps i was not meant ot be a father. HA HA, of course i wasnt meant to be much. Not meant to be anything thaty could holld resonsiblity to anything that might hapen to live on this planet.
I owned a hampter once. After mal-nutieritoment and death i decided to own a snake instead. If the hampster could not live the snake – the stronger of the animal kingdom -- would out do it, and take its place. But instead my 13 yr old mind made it just as bad as the porr snke. when will parents intervien? When little sarah kills her goldfish time and time again (it wanted a walk) the rentals buy another. Sic Sic Sic.
I say not that i love animals, or that they diserve the same rights as humans; mearly that they too are animals. We are animals. We are animals. Let me say again... we are animals... We have been created by motyher earth to exist on her. But as a creation of mother earth we must understnad that we are a part of her. If we are a part of her, then we must except that we are then a part of nature. Do you agree? Fuck, No. Seriously. Do you agree? Are humans a part of nature? (think for a second; have we been created by nature?)
We are created ny nature. Nthing more nothing less. The dinosaurs may have killed them selves out with over eating. Does that mean we blame the dins for the lak of them. Nl. somethimes limet cjange can ge for the cod. I am not avitrctiang, just spreding afacts.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Last Night in Brizzy. Ecstasy Anyone? (part3)
"Alright youze druggies!" The crowd around Sarah had dispersed; I have to admit that it was quite a sight watching her unload so many pills in such a short time, "Anyone else? I'm 'bout to go downstairs and I've still got six left!" No one spoke up. "Alright then fuck yaz!" She started to shuffle her way to the door. "Have fun, and thanks for my – er – our party, it's much appreciated."
As Sarah closed the door behind her I felt as though I had a duty, while everyone was still relatively quiet, to make people aware of how intense the drugs were meant to be. Dealers always talk up there drugs so it was probably all bullshit, but as I hadn't tried one of these white lightnings before, I figured I'd better be on the safe side. "Alright guys, one more quick thing. Before you all go swallowing all the tablets you want, I noticed there are some newbies in the audience. Fair warnin' to you – Oi! Shut it!" (a couple of the lumpys in the doorway to the balcony thought their conversation was more important), "That's better. As I was sayin': a fair warnin' to everyone in this room, these won't be kickin' in for at least an hour. They're slow acting but when they do hit, from what I've heard, they should hit hard. I wouldn't eat more than a half if it's your first time, and everyone else, well, you know where you're at, just don't be stupid." I hated talking to groups. My telling anyone to be careful with their drugs was pretty hypocritical. I felt awkward, "Well… anyway, it's getting close to midnight, so let's move this party outside! Family anyone?"
The Family was my favorite Australian nightspot. It had been the undisputed number-one place to go when looking for something crazy on the late-night streets of Brisbane. Named appropriately, it's the kind of club where everybody you meet is a friend, whether you know them on the outside or not. This is due largely to the fact that ecstasy is so popular within the Family's irregular walls, and the main reason that I myself had become such a regular. Every weekend you were guaranteed a live show from one of the best in the techno industry. Management wasn't stupid either. They knew which crowd was their target audience, and you could tell by the price of a bottle of water. When ecstasy is coursing through your veins, it tends to dehydrate, so water is a necessity. Alcohol is barely needed at all, and to some, it seems like a waste of money. "My mindzz so fucked up, what's th' point of alcohol?" Ingeniously, there is not one water bubbler inside, and the water from the tap in the bathroom is set to only come out at the temperature of a hot bath. Your only option for water is to either buy a five-dollar bottle of water from the bar, or pass out on the dance floor from lack of fluids while the lights and lasers flash rhythmically on your soon-to-be limp corpse. It's not in the bag that you will die, but if not quickly attended to by a medical professional, anyone will die of extreme dehydration... people tend to pay the five bucks. As I said, the management at Family knows their clientele and they know how to get your money, but Jesus, they do put on a good show.
We walked the pristine streets of the inner city towards Fortitude Valley, the place to go in late night Brizzy. In the Valley you could find any kind of club you wanted: top forty, house, rock, cover bands, karaoke, trance, indie, grunge, jazz, strip, gay… I must be forgetting something, but you get my point; it was a melting pot of young culture.
Of course I wasn't headed to the Val by myself. Along with Sarah, our gang included Eliot and some not-so-cute female lumpy he'd been tooling for a while. Jewels, I think her name was. Also Freddy, a pit boss from the casino who was much too old to go out but couldn't help playing make-believe that he could still party with the adolescents. I never could have had the heart to say it to his face but… come on. Just 'cause someone spends their youth waxing the balls of their superiors in order to climb the cooperate ladder instead of enjoying their youth like they should have does not give them an excuse to have a midlife crisis while dressed like a twenty-something on the red-light streets.
Of course there were also a few other non-descripts. The people who you know are there, but honestly, deep down, you know you don't care that they are there. They just fill the space. Make the party seem full. They're fun, they really are or else you wouldn't be hanging around them in the first place, but really, are you going to miss them when you move away?
This was true about everybody else there except for one, so I saved him for last. That was Perry. Perry was pretty much one of the only true male friends that I had grown in Brisbane. Then again, he was gay, so I don't really even know if that counts. To me, a person has always been a person, nothing more and nothing less. Something as trivial as sexual orientation should not be what is used to judge someone's true character. Perry was easily my best mate. We didn't get to talk about hot chicks in short skirts but we still got to have a helluva lot of fun. We hit up nightclub after nightclub, and party after party. We downed drink after drink, and drug after drug. We didn't share a taste in genitalia but we shared a major taste for exhilaration. It went deeper then that though. I trusted him, and I had no problem pushing that trust as far as it could go – we both already had on a number of occasions.
The closer we got to the Valley, the dirtier the streets became. Australia's cities are some of the cleanest in the world, but I don't care what country you're in or which city, when you get to the "over-indulging" part of a city, the part where people spend their nights doing everything in excess, if you take your poodle for a walk around the block you will be dodging vomit along the way.
As we got closer to the club I could feel myself getting tense, my jaw tighter. I had to check in with myself. Was I just fervently anticipating our arrival or had the drugs already started to take effect? I looked down at my watch, not even a half hour had gone by. These were definitely going to be creepers.
We passed the Monastery, a club that, in my book, was rated as shit when compared to the Family. I knew when we got around the corner we'd have a clear view of the dimly-lit, off-the-beaten-track entrance. There was never any reason to come to this scrap of sidewalk unless you were about to enter this holy shrine of nightclubs. I glanced down at my watch; it'd been thirty-five minutes. As I rounded the corner my heart was thumping like a preteen's touching his first slightly-developed breast. I stared down the street and saw a line that nearly stretched down the entire block. A wave of disappointment washed over my slightly drunken and soon to be detached-from-body soul, for I knew how slow this line would move. The pain of this anticlimax escaped audibly through my lips in a slight, out-of-character whimper, and physically through my legs coming to an almost full stop.
"Come on now Monty, don’t slow down mate!" Perry piped up, "We've got a club to get to, and a certain master DJ called Paul Van Dyke to listen to."
"I know man, but that line…can't you see it?" I stuttered.
He didn't answer, he just pushed me forward. Grudgingly, I continued my hike forward, past a couple smokers lining the brick wall. I could hear the soft thud of music pumping away inside. Boom, Boom, Boom. This sucked. It was going to be at least an hour in this line. I started to pass the heavily guarded entry so I could walk past the start of the mile long line and join at the end when I was grabbed by the arm.
"Damn it, Monty, you don't think we'd'uv let a little thing like a line stop us on your last night do ya?"
"What… w'd'ya mean?"
"I got us a booth man! Sarah and you are partying right tonight, mate!" This was excellent, pretty much the best way to do it. We'd have our own place in the club, which we could seclude using drapes. We'd have drink service all night. But most importantly, the thing that really mattered was that we wouldn't have any line, "It's under Treasury my friend, Mr. Security Guard, first name Conrad, thank you."
"Last Night in Brizzy, Ecstasy Anyone" will be finished soon in Part4… probably.
-strongmonty
Disclaimer: Ecstasy is a serious drug. Ingestion of MDMA can cause serious side effects. Get more information at: http://www.intheknowzone.com/ecstasy/chemistry.htm
As Sarah closed the door behind her I felt as though I had a duty, while everyone was still relatively quiet, to make people aware of how intense the drugs were meant to be. Dealers always talk up there drugs so it was probably all bullshit, but as I hadn't tried one of these white lightnings before, I figured I'd better be on the safe side. "Alright guys, one more quick thing. Before you all go swallowing all the tablets you want, I noticed there are some newbies in the audience. Fair warnin' to you – Oi! Shut it!" (a couple of the lumpys in the doorway to the balcony thought their conversation was more important), "That's better. As I was sayin': a fair warnin' to everyone in this room, these won't be kickin' in for at least an hour. They're slow acting but when they do hit, from what I've heard, they should hit hard. I wouldn't eat more than a half if it's your first time, and everyone else, well, you know where you're at, just don't be stupid." I hated talking to groups. My telling anyone to be careful with their drugs was pretty hypocritical. I felt awkward, "Well… anyway, it's getting close to midnight, so let's move this party outside! Family anyone?"
The Family was my favorite Australian nightspot. It had been the undisputed number-one place to go when looking for something crazy on the late-night streets of Brisbane. Named appropriately, it's the kind of club where everybody you meet is a friend, whether you know them on the outside or not. This is due largely to the fact that ecstasy is so popular within the Family's irregular walls, and the main reason that I myself had become such a regular. Every weekend you were guaranteed a live show from one of the best in the techno industry. Management wasn't stupid either. They knew which crowd was their target audience, and you could tell by the price of a bottle of water. When ecstasy is coursing through your veins, it tends to dehydrate, so water is a necessity. Alcohol is barely needed at all, and to some, it seems like a waste of money. "My mindzz so fucked up, what's th' point of alcohol?" Ingeniously, there is not one water bubbler inside, and the water from the tap in the bathroom is set to only come out at the temperature of a hot bath. Your only option for water is to either buy a five-dollar bottle of water from the bar, or pass out on the dance floor from lack of fluids while the lights and lasers flash rhythmically on your soon-to-be limp corpse. It's not in the bag that you will die, but if not quickly attended to by a medical professional, anyone will die of extreme dehydration... people tend to pay the five bucks. As I said, the management at Family knows their clientele and they know how to get your money, but Jesus, they do put on a good show.
We walked the pristine streets of the inner city towards Fortitude Valley, the place to go in late night Brizzy. In the Valley you could find any kind of club you wanted: top forty, house, rock, cover bands, karaoke, trance, indie, grunge, jazz, strip, gay… I must be forgetting something, but you get my point; it was a melting pot of young culture.
Of course I wasn't headed to the Val by myself. Along with Sarah, our gang included Eliot and some not-so-cute female lumpy he'd been tooling for a while. Jewels, I think her name was. Also Freddy, a pit boss from the casino who was much too old to go out but couldn't help playing make-believe that he could still party with the adolescents. I never could have had the heart to say it to his face but… come on. Just 'cause someone spends their youth waxing the balls of their superiors in order to climb the cooperate ladder instead of enjoying their youth like they should have does not give them an excuse to have a midlife crisis while dressed like a twenty-something on the red-light streets.
Of course there were also a few other non-descripts. The people who you know are there, but honestly, deep down, you know you don't care that they are there. They just fill the space. Make the party seem full. They're fun, they really are or else you wouldn't be hanging around them in the first place, but really, are you going to miss them when you move away?
This was true about everybody else there except for one, so I saved him for last. That was Perry. Perry was pretty much one of the only true male friends that I had grown in Brisbane. Then again, he was gay, so I don't really even know if that counts. To me, a person has always been a person, nothing more and nothing less. Something as trivial as sexual orientation should not be what is used to judge someone's true character. Perry was easily my best mate. We didn't get to talk about hot chicks in short skirts but we still got to have a helluva lot of fun. We hit up nightclub after nightclub, and party after party. We downed drink after drink, and drug after drug. We didn't share a taste in genitalia but we shared a major taste for exhilaration. It went deeper then that though. I trusted him, and I had no problem pushing that trust as far as it could go – we both already had on a number of occasions.
The closer we got to the Valley, the dirtier the streets became. Australia's cities are some of the cleanest in the world, but I don't care what country you're in or which city, when you get to the "over-indulging" part of a city, the part where people spend their nights doing everything in excess, if you take your poodle for a walk around the block you will be dodging vomit along the way.
As we got closer to the club I could feel myself getting tense, my jaw tighter. I had to check in with myself. Was I just fervently anticipating our arrival or had the drugs already started to take effect? I looked down at my watch, not even a half hour had gone by. These were definitely going to be creepers.
We passed the Monastery, a club that, in my book, was rated as shit when compared to the Family. I knew when we got around the corner we'd have a clear view of the dimly-lit, off-the-beaten-track entrance. There was never any reason to come to this scrap of sidewalk unless you were about to enter this holy shrine of nightclubs. I glanced down at my watch; it'd been thirty-five minutes. As I rounded the corner my heart was thumping like a preteen's touching his first slightly-developed breast. I stared down the street and saw a line that nearly stretched down the entire block. A wave of disappointment washed over my slightly drunken and soon to be detached-from-body soul, for I knew how slow this line would move. The pain of this anticlimax escaped audibly through my lips in a slight, out-of-character whimper, and physically through my legs coming to an almost full stop.
"Come on now Monty, don’t slow down mate!" Perry piped up, "We've got a club to get to, and a certain master DJ called Paul Van Dyke to listen to."
"I know man, but that line…can't you see it?" I stuttered.
He didn't answer, he just pushed me forward. Grudgingly, I continued my hike forward, past a couple smokers lining the brick wall. I could hear the soft thud of music pumping away inside. Boom, Boom, Boom. This sucked. It was going to be at least an hour in this line. I started to pass the heavily guarded entry so I could walk past the start of the mile long line and join at the end when I was grabbed by the arm.
"Damn it, Monty, you don't think we'd'uv let a little thing like a line stop us on your last night do ya?"
"What… w'd'ya mean?"
"I got us a booth man! Sarah and you are partying right tonight, mate!" This was excellent, pretty much the best way to do it. We'd have our own place in the club, which we could seclude using drapes. We'd have drink service all night. But most importantly, the thing that really mattered was that we wouldn't have any line, "It's under Treasury my friend, Mr. Security Guard, first name Conrad, thank you."
"Last Night in Brizzy, Ecstasy Anyone" will be finished soon in Part4… probably.
-strongmonty
Disclaimer: Ecstasy is a serious drug. Ingestion of MDMA can cause serious side effects. Get more information at: http://www.intheknowzone.com/ecstasy/chemistry.htm
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Angle Shooters; Despicable Poker Scum
I'd like to talk about an incident on a limit table from Saturday, in hopes that some of you can take some good from it. A young girl, no older than twenty-two, sits in seat ten next to the dealer and struggles to understand the rules of the game. She is not unlike other new players; timid, confused, smiley, but most of all just wanting to know what the hell is going on in this game that is taking her money. Everything about this scene is good for poker. She is learning the game and, yes, besides her occasional suck-out, the rest of the table gets to reap the benefits of her mistakes. That’s poker; we all have to start somewhere. With a little luck she might like the game and the next time we see her at the table she will have brought a couple friends; Lord knows we could all use a few more women at the table.
Her struggles are not at all alleviated by the grossly inept dealer. This women shooting cards at us from clumsy, slow and uncooperative hands quickly kills any notion I may have had that all women can do two things at once. This is a person who has somehow managed to elude natural selection, performing a near scientific impossibility by merely surviving to her forties. If you're a dealer, and you think you may fall under this description, it might be time to look for new work. But, Jesus... I'm sorry. A different rant for a different time.
Now enter characters two and three, seated respectfully to the dealers left. Both loose and aggressive players, they are involved in a lot of pots, and both have recently pulled yet out another bill from an over-worn wallet. One man, clean cut and in his early forties, wears Yankees gear as he grumbles about his bad luck. The other is dressed in a motley array of dirty clothes. He's well passed his sixties and quite unpleasant. The entire table has no problem hearing as he blames all the young guys on the table for his crappy cards. Apparently when the twenty-seven year-old on the end of the table wins with J4 suited, the "kid" is being aggressive and stupid, but when the old man does it, it's OK 'cause he had a “feeling" from under-the-gun that his J4 was going to come through for a boat, and thus it is justified.
On the turn, only these three players are still left in the hand together. Old Man bets, the Girl calls, Yankee raises to two bets, Old Man calls, and Girl says, "I wanna raise, what do I do?" This is where the sky fell. When Girl goes to raise, she only puts out the two bets and then asks what she can put out for a raise. Everyone on our side of the table has heard her raise except the dealer who starts to burn and turn, but luckily we are able to stop her. Girl explains she wanted to raise and that she had said so clearly; the whole table had heard it. But the two men in the hand, realizing they are beat, will not stand for it. Floor gets called over because, again, the dealer can't handle it, and the floor, seeing no other option, decides to go with his dealer. Rarely do I ever try to argue for someone on the table, but with this I had to speak up. Angle shooting to take advantage of a new player does not help you in the long run. The two men had clearly heard the raise, but in seeing a way that they may be able to save themselves one big bet each, they end up making a young poker player feel alienated from the game. After another hand she stands up (with the pot she had just won) and leaves the table, probably never to return to a poker table again; not only a loss for our table, but also a loss for poker culture as a whole.
My hope is that something can be learned here. We have all seen seasoned players try to screw a new guy on a technicality. Usually this is done by losing players who can't figure out any other way to win. A poker table is intimidating for a new player and, unfortunately, we cannot always rely on the dealer to help out. When you're at the table and this situation next arises, how will you deal with it? Hopefully you will not be too intimidated to stand up for the little guy (or girl), and put the angle shooter in his place.
-strongmonty
Her struggles are not at all alleviated by the grossly inept dealer. This women shooting cards at us from clumsy, slow and uncooperative hands quickly kills any notion I may have had that all women can do two things at once. This is a person who has somehow managed to elude natural selection, performing a near scientific impossibility by merely surviving to her forties. If you're a dealer, and you think you may fall under this description, it might be time to look for new work. But, Jesus... I'm sorry. A different rant for a different time.
Now enter characters two and three, seated respectfully to the dealers left. Both loose and aggressive players, they are involved in a lot of pots, and both have recently pulled yet out another bill from an over-worn wallet. One man, clean cut and in his early forties, wears Yankees gear as he grumbles about his bad luck. The other is dressed in a motley array of dirty clothes. He's well passed his sixties and quite unpleasant. The entire table has no problem hearing as he blames all the young guys on the table for his crappy cards. Apparently when the twenty-seven year-old on the end of the table wins with J4 suited, the "kid" is being aggressive and stupid, but when the old man does it, it's OK 'cause he had a “feeling" from under-the-gun that his J4 was going to come through for a boat, and thus it is justified.
On the turn, only these three players are still left in the hand together. Old Man bets, the Girl calls, Yankee raises to two bets, Old Man calls, and Girl says, "I wanna raise, what do I do?" This is where the sky fell. When Girl goes to raise, she only puts out the two bets and then asks what she can put out for a raise. Everyone on our side of the table has heard her raise except the dealer who starts to burn and turn, but luckily we are able to stop her. Girl explains she wanted to raise and that she had said so clearly; the whole table had heard it. But the two men in the hand, realizing they are beat, will not stand for it. Floor gets called over because, again, the dealer can't handle it, and the floor, seeing no other option, decides to go with his dealer. Rarely do I ever try to argue for someone on the table, but with this I had to speak up. Angle shooting to take advantage of a new player does not help you in the long run. The two men had clearly heard the raise, but in seeing a way that they may be able to save themselves one big bet each, they end up making a young poker player feel alienated from the game. After another hand she stands up (with the pot she had just won) and leaves the table, probably never to return to a poker table again; not only a loss for our table, but also a loss for poker culture as a whole.
My hope is that something can be learned here. We have all seen seasoned players try to screw a new guy on a technicality. Usually this is done by losing players who can't figure out any other way to win. A poker table is intimidating for a new player and, unfortunately, we cannot always rely on the dealer to help out. When you're at the table and this situation next arises, how will you deal with it? Hopefully you will not be too intimidated to stand up for the little guy (or girl), and put the angle shooter in his place.
-strongmonty
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Last Night in Brizzy. Ecstasy Anyone? (part2)
"So what are these anyway?" I asked. As I said, each cook makes their pills so different from the next, using different chemicals and a different method. Due to this variety, each cook will add color to the pill and "brand" them with a specific symbol in order for the average e-head to be able to correctly identify which pill they are eating. The name of the pill is then spoken as the color followed by the symbol. "Hey mate, how were them purple hearts?" "Oh yeah, they were alright. A bit too speedy though…what about those blue moons you had last week, what were they like?" "Fuckin' A man!! They were great!! They had heaps of MDMA but there was just the right amount of speed in 'em 'cause they weren’t too smacky." "Damn, sounds nice! I'll make sure I keep an ear open for some blue moons."
"They're white lightning bolts. Have you tried one before?" As she talked she was working out the cash that was coming into her, and passing back the appropriate number of pills.
"Had one? I haven't even heard of 'em before!" And considering how deep I was within the Australian drug scene that was a rarity. It meant they were probably pretty new.
"Yeah same here," she replied, "but hey, my guy swears to 'em, says they're wicked! He did warn me 'bout 'em, but. Said they're creepers so we best be careful, you – No!" she yelled stopping herself in mid-sentence, "I said thirty, Lumpy!" Eliot, an overly talkative, young blackjack dealer had just handed Sarah a worn hundred dollar bill and was naïvely holding up four fingers. Eliot wasn't fat, not even close. "Lumpy" was a nickname we gave all the new dealers, kind of like a way to haze them. Eliot had been there for about nine months so he wasn't really a lumpy any more, but Sarah had been away for the last six so as far as she was concerned, he was still at the bottom of the totem poll. I had gotten to know Eliot in my last few weeks and he seemed to be an alright kid, but if he thought for a second that Sarah was gonna give him a break — well I guess maybe he was still kind of lumpy.
"Sarah, what the hell?" Eliot whined looking genuinely shocked, "I thought you were joking with that whole 'dick' thing. And I'm not a lumpy any longer anyway! Monty tell 'er I'm not a lumpy any—"
"Hey, man don't get me involved in this. It's not my bowl on the table; Sarah makes the rules."
He didn't know when to stop, "Really, Sarah come on! Two of them are for Marie anywa—"
"Alright, shut-up!" Sarah wasn't one for whining. "I don’t care who you're buying them for, if you want to pay twenty-five then bring 'er over here an' she can buy it herself. If you want four it'll cost you one-twenty, plus another five for lumpy tax."
"But—"
"Take it or leave it," she said sternly, obviously not about to budge.
Eliot could see he was defeated. Bitterly, he reached into his back pocket, grabbed his wallet and fished out another twenty-five, as Sarah grabbed four lightning bolt-encrusted white tablets from her bowl. They exchanged the bills for the merchandise, and quickly Sarah changed back from the cruel businesswomen to the smiling happy-go-lucky temptress, "Next, Please!" she said with a hint of self-satisfaction in her voice. "So anyway, he said they're creepers, so it'll be a good hour-fifteen 'til they kick in."
"That long? Really?" I was legitimately shocked. An hour was a pretty long ass time to be waiting for an ekkie to start working it's magic, but fifteen minutes on top… well, I'd never heard of that before.
"Yeah, that's what he said," she assured me, "But he swears that when they kick in you'll be in for a wicked surprise! That your drink?" she asked, and before I could say anything she had grabbed the drink, popped a pill and down the hatch it went. "I figure I'd put aside ten for the two of us, yeah? It is the last time we'll be partying for a bit, hey. You goin' off to the States and all."
"Ten?" That was a bit much, even for a couple of nightlife veterans like us. "Well, fuck girl! If we're gonna be doin' five a piece tonight, we better get a jump on it, right?" I grabbed two from the bowl, chucked them in my mouth, and took a swig from my Bundy rum & coke, "You're fallin' behind Sarah, you haven't gone soft on me while you been away, have ya'?"
"Ha!" she exclaimed as she grabbed my drink. Two seconds and one more gulp later and another pill was sliding down her throat.
"Well so much for being careful, hey Sarah?"
"No going back now, Monty! Wheeuuuw!"
I knew what we were in for too. In terms of drugs, a "creeper" is exactly what it sounds like. It takes forever to kick in and then when it finally does, it only comes on in little bits. At first your mind gets confused. "Wait, am I high?" you begin to wonder, only to shake it off and realize that, no, in fact you still have complete control. Then it happens again, but this time when you shake it off, you realize you are a little high. Then again, and a little higher, until, "Holy mother of hell! I'm FUCKED!" Bang! Just like that, you're high as an angel, and feeling just as blessed. Sadly, if you're someone who has not done a lot of drugs, this can be a fantastically menacing experience, and you'll probably end up being "creeped" out.
While I'd like to say this was an excessive night for a special occasion, I'd be lying if I did. Yes we were definitely being excessive, but that was really the same as any other night Sarah and I got together. That was a big part of the fun. The more excessive, the crazier the high. Why take one, when you could take two at the same time and be twice as messed up? When you're an addict, as long as you feel like you have an excuse to indulge, it makes it all seem normal, like it's OK, like you don't have a problem. And that night we definitely knew we had an excuse. What we didn't know was just what kind of creepers these would be, or just how hard they'd end up hitting the ekkie virgins of the room.
"Last Night in Brizzy, Ecstasy Anyone?" soon to be completed in Part3
-strongmonty
Disclaimer: Ecstasy is a serious drug that can have negative side-effects. For more information visit: http://www.intheknowzone.com/ecstasy/chemistry.htm
"They're white lightning bolts. Have you tried one before?" As she talked she was working out the cash that was coming into her, and passing back the appropriate number of pills.
"Had one? I haven't even heard of 'em before!" And considering how deep I was within the Australian drug scene that was a rarity. It meant they were probably pretty new.
"Yeah same here," she replied, "but hey, my guy swears to 'em, says they're wicked! He did warn me 'bout 'em, but. Said they're creepers so we best be careful, you – No!" she yelled stopping herself in mid-sentence, "I said thirty, Lumpy!" Eliot, an overly talkative, young blackjack dealer had just handed Sarah a worn hundred dollar bill and was naïvely holding up four fingers. Eliot wasn't fat, not even close. "Lumpy" was a nickname we gave all the new dealers, kind of like a way to haze them. Eliot had been there for about nine months so he wasn't really a lumpy any more, but Sarah had been away for the last six so as far as she was concerned, he was still at the bottom of the totem poll. I had gotten to know Eliot in my last few weeks and he seemed to be an alright kid, but if he thought for a second that Sarah was gonna give him a break — well I guess maybe he was still kind of lumpy.
"Sarah, what the hell?" Eliot whined looking genuinely shocked, "I thought you were joking with that whole 'dick' thing. And I'm not a lumpy any longer anyway! Monty tell 'er I'm not a lumpy any—"
"Hey, man don't get me involved in this. It's not my bowl on the table; Sarah makes the rules."
He didn't know when to stop, "Really, Sarah come on! Two of them are for Marie anywa—"
"Alright, shut-up!" Sarah wasn't one for whining. "I don’t care who you're buying them for, if you want to pay twenty-five then bring 'er over here an' she can buy it herself. If you want four it'll cost you one-twenty, plus another five for lumpy tax."
"But—"
"Take it or leave it," she said sternly, obviously not about to budge.
Eliot could see he was defeated. Bitterly, he reached into his back pocket, grabbed his wallet and fished out another twenty-five, as Sarah grabbed four lightning bolt-encrusted white tablets from her bowl. They exchanged the bills for the merchandise, and quickly Sarah changed back from the cruel businesswomen to the smiling happy-go-lucky temptress, "Next, Please!" she said with a hint of self-satisfaction in her voice. "So anyway, he said they're creepers, so it'll be a good hour-fifteen 'til they kick in."
"That long? Really?" I was legitimately shocked. An hour was a pretty long ass time to be waiting for an ekkie to start working it's magic, but fifteen minutes on top… well, I'd never heard of that before.
"Yeah, that's what he said," she assured me, "But he swears that when they kick in you'll be in for a wicked surprise! That your drink?" she asked, and before I could say anything she had grabbed the drink, popped a pill and down the hatch it went. "I figure I'd put aside ten for the two of us, yeah? It is the last time we'll be partying for a bit, hey. You goin' off to the States and all."
"Ten?" That was a bit much, even for a couple of nightlife veterans like us. "Well, fuck girl! If we're gonna be doin' five a piece tonight, we better get a jump on it, right?" I grabbed two from the bowl, chucked them in my mouth, and took a swig from my Bundy rum & coke, "You're fallin' behind Sarah, you haven't gone soft on me while you been away, have ya'?"
"Ha!" she exclaimed as she grabbed my drink. Two seconds and one more gulp later and another pill was sliding down her throat.
"Well so much for being careful, hey Sarah?"
"No going back now, Monty! Wheeuuuw!"
I knew what we were in for too. In terms of drugs, a "creeper" is exactly what it sounds like. It takes forever to kick in and then when it finally does, it only comes on in little bits. At first your mind gets confused. "Wait, am I high?" you begin to wonder, only to shake it off and realize that, no, in fact you still have complete control. Then it happens again, but this time when you shake it off, you realize you are a little high. Then again, and a little higher, until, "Holy mother of hell! I'm FUCKED!" Bang! Just like that, you're high as an angel, and feeling just as blessed. Sadly, if you're someone who has not done a lot of drugs, this can be a fantastically menacing experience, and you'll probably end up being "creeped" out.
While I'd like to say this was an excessive night for a special occasion, I'd be lying if I did. Yes we were definitely being excessive, but that was really the same as any other night Sarah and I got together. That was a big part of the fun. The more excessive, the crazier the high. Why take one, when you could take two at the same time and be twice as messed up? When you're an addict, as long as you feel like you have an excuse to indulge, it makes it all seem normal, like it's OK, like you don't have a problem. And that night we definitely knew we had an excuse. What we didn't know was just what kind of creepers these would be, or just how hard they'd end up hitting the ekkie virgins of the room.
"Last Night in Brizzy, Ecstasy Anyone?" soon to be completed in Part3
-strongmonty
Disclaimer: Ecstasy is a serious drug that can have negative side-effects. For more information visit: http://www.intheknowzone.com/ecstasy/chemistry.htm
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Rebirth of the Sun; Not as Amazing as Poker Astronomers Predict
I arrive at the Mohegan Sun in Connecticut, with great anticipation. After chucking my keys at the hotel valet, I quickly check in, unload my bags into the arms of the bellhop and find my way downstairs to their new poker room. At first glance I was amazed. Though there have been complaints from some players that the lighting is too weak, the majority believes they have hit the décor spot on. Unfortunately for the Sun, a pretty room isn't everything.
Any time a new room opens there are obviously going to be a few wrinkles in the carpet that will need some ironing out. The problem comes when the wrinkles are so big that players can't help but trip over them on the way to their table. With a qualified poker room manager like Bruce Dixon, I was surprised to find that several of the dealers were weak and the floor managers were not much better. The floors working the podium were clearly not yet prepared to be operating the BRAVO system. BRAVO's latest design, engineered to make a poker room run smother, was doing quite the opposite. Floors were erasing waiting lists causing players to be forgotten. Dealers were slowing down their games while trying to figure out as one dealer put it, "some crappy piece of robot." I was flabbergasted by the number of mistakes I was able to witness in just a few hours of play. Granted, it must be acknowledged the opening date was less than a week ago on August 29th and it has been made clear by management that this is only a soft opening, a time to work out the kinks before the grand opening on October 2nd. While staff should be able to pick up the technical skills required by the beginning of October, there were some deeper problems that appear to be a bit more serious.
Poorly trained staff aside, there is never any excuse for rudeness from floor managers. When a player makes an undemanding request, or asks a simple question, a floor manager can never be forgiven for not answering with the utmost of respect and courtesy. Unfortunately, it seemed that for some of the managers at the Sun, a small amount of power is too much to handle, and they had forgotten who in the room were their customers and who were their employees. In fairness, there were many professionally deferential managers on shift, but rotten apples always stick out in a players mind and when one bites into a wriggling worm they are not going to feel like another granny smith anytime soon.
Beautiful, creative aesthetics, while pleasing to the eye, do not top the list of necessities for a successful poker room. With a major competitor like Foxwoods just a few minutes drive away, Mohegan Sun will have to become more well-rounded in order to thrive in the poker-rich area of Eastern Connecticut. It's not to be forgotten that competent Bruce Dixon is behind the wheel. Hopefully, he will recognize their weakness in customer service, and he'll be able to steer the room into a more competitive direction, one that will send ripples throughout the poker rooms of New England.
-strongmonty
Any time a new room opens there are obviously going to be a few wrinkles in the carpet that will need some ironing out. The problem comes when the wrinkles are so big that players can't help but trip over them on the way to their table. With a qualified poker room manager like Bruce Dixon, I was surprised to find that several of the dealers were weak and the floor managers were not much better. The floors working the podium were clearly not yet prepared to be operating the BRAVO system. BRAVO's latest design, engineered to make a poker room run smother, was doing quite the opposite. Floors were erasing waiting lists causing players to be forgotten. Dealers were slowing down their games while trying to figure out as one dealer put it, "some crappy piece of robot." I was flabbergasted by the number of mistakes I was able to witness in just a few hours of play. Granted, it must be acknowledged the opening date was less than a week ago on August 29th and it has been made clear by management that this is only a soft opening, a time to work out the kinks before the grand opening on October 2nd. While staff should be able to pick up the technical skills required by the beginning of October, there were some deeper problems that appear to be a bit more serious.
Poorly trained staff aside, there is never any excuse for rudeness from floor managers. When a player makes an undemanding request, or asks a simple question, a floor manager can never be forgiven for not answering with the utmost of respect and courtesy. Unfortunately, it seemed that for some of the managers at the Sun, a small amount of power is too much to handle, and they had forgotten who in the room were their customers and who were their employees. In fairness, there were many professionally deferential managers on shift, but rotten apples always stick out in a players mind and when one bites into a wriggling worm they are not going to feel like another granny smith anytime soon.
Beautiful, creative aesthetics, while pleasing to the eye, do not top the list of necessities for a successful poker room. With a major competitor like Foxwoods just a few minutes drive away, Mohegan Sun will have to become more well-rounded in order to thrive in the poker-rich area of Eastern Connecticut. It's not to be forgotten that competent Bruce Dixon is behind the wheel. Hopefully, he will recognize their weakness in customer service, and he'll be able to steer the room into a more competitive direction, one that will send ripples throughout the poker rooms of New England.
-strongmonty
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Last Night in Brizzy. Ecstasy Anyone?
In no way was my move to the States typical, in fact it was nowhere near how the average person defines moving. Loads of people associate moving with a chore, but I've never seen it that way. When I move, and I've done it a lot, I like to start anew. My possessions are sold off, given away, or simply thrown out. I'm left with nothing but a bag full of clothes, and a laptop. Once I'm down to practically nothing, that's when the major party starts. I didn't know where in the States I'd end up, I just figured that if I partied long enough and kept moving, I'd know my next home when I arrived. Being the party machine (druggy) that I was, I decided I needed one more party in Australia before I could say goodbye. It was not an hour after I had finished my last shift, and my logical brain had already become the unfortunate victim of a foggy dismemberment from the world of the living.
I was determined to make the night something special, for ecstasy pills (or "ekkies" in Aussie slang, pronounced ek-eez) is not the easiest thing to wrap your talons around when you're flying from one city to the next.
It was a huge party. Not only did we have my departure from the country as an excuse to get messed up, but it was also a good friend's first night back from the Caribbean where she'd been dealing cards on the cruise ships. In the casino industry people are always coming and going. Her name was Sarah, and on top of being ridiculously gorgeous she was a harder partier and more ready to have a good time than any bloke I had come to know. Oh, and, as cupids cruel sense of humor would have it, a lesbian. Trust me, I tried… repeatedly. Short hair for a girl, she always had it styled expensively. That night its base was black but red highlights coming from her scalp gave her a devilish, seductive vampire look. She had a body that made heads turn in every club we went to. It didn't matter what sex you were or how you swung, she was one of those people you just had to watch.
In most cultures, being a gorgeous young girl can be quite beneficial, and nowhere is this more true than in the drug culture. This is due to the fact that most of your low-level drug dealers are made up of insecure, exasperating, young guys usually between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. They want to be popular, and they think the way to do it is to be the guy that everybody comes to, even if it's only because they don't know where else to go. By this logic they probably would have had just as much fun opening a convenience store. Oh my God! I'm so popular, everyone keeps calling me!!! Now you put a pair of boobs large enough to land a jet on in front of one of these kids and what do you think happens? If I give her cheap/free drugs I'm going to get laid! Awesome!!! They're sad to watch in action. I should know, I had been one of them… Ahhh…to be young again…well younger.
My rack wasn't much good at getting cheap drugs, but with a friend like Sarah I had the next best thing. Even though I new it was her first night back, I suspected she'd have no problem getting her contacts going strong once again so I asked if she wouldn't mind picking up some "party favors" for myself and a few others.
If you haven't done a lot of drugs you have to understand that it is very rare to ever get two batches of any type of man-made drug to be made up of the same chemical compound and thus the high is rarely ever the same twice. Creating something like ecstasy is not an easy procedure for anyone that has not done well in a college organic chemistry class, something that not too many ecstasy cooks have bothered with. All of this means that you never know exactly what your high will be like, how high you will get, when it will start, or even when it will end. It adds a little mystery, but usually about forty-five to fifty-five minuets after you pop a pill you start feeling the effects. The patient first experiences excitement followed by euphoria. Senses are heightened and inhibitions are torn to the ground and though hallucinations are rare they have sometimes been reported. The peak of the high will probably only last approximately an hour, but the entire experience will usually last around four.
The small city apartment of the co-worker who had volunteered to hold the party was jam-packed. By that point we had probably managed to cram forty or fifty people into the three rooms on offer. Looking around there were many people from the casino, but at least fifteen who I did not recognize as known drug users, at least not from any of my nights out. Sarah had not yet shown up, and I was slightly worried wondering how these newbies would react when the drugs arrived.
No sooner had the thought bounced through the soon to be abused neurons in my head than the door was blasted open and Sarah stylishly glided through. "The yummy things have arrived boys, eat 'em while their hot!" Sarah was obviously not one for caution.
After gliding her way to the couch that I had been finding quite comfortable, she jammed her experienced derrière between myself and an ex-fling belonging to the both of us, and threw her purse in my lap. I watched in eager silence as she scanned the bowls full of party snacks that were littered atop the new-age kidney bean shaped coffee table in front of us, decided upon the M&M's, grabbed the bowl and turned it right side up scattering multi-colored sugar coated aphrodisiacs across the glass and onto the carpet. A spout of laughter came from the mouths of onlookers whom had stopped their conversations to watch the amusing show that Sarah was always sure to bestow upon those lucky enough to be in her audience.
She placed the now empty black bowl back down and, without turning from her newly acquired workbench reached an upturned palm to me, "Purse please," an innocent smile curled her lips and I obeyed.
The purse opened, Sarah took out a plastic zip-lock bag and dumped its contents into the bowl, "Alright, listen up, and pay attention!" she said unnecessarily; dump drugs onto a table in the middle of any party and your going to get the attention of your party goers. "What we have here is a bowl of one hundred ekkies. They're on sale for the next fifteen minuets at thirty bucks apiece if you have a penis or twenty-five if you don't! If you think that's sexist, too bad, I'm the one with the drugs, and vaginas taste sweeter. After that anything that is left is going to a special driver downstairs and then they disappear so hurry up!"
Did I mention that this girl was a party queen?
As a mass of expectant fun-lovers began to form she turned to my ear and quietly added, "Getting them at sixteen a piece from my boy downstairs means you and me eat for free and I still make, hmmm…well you do the math, Roulette boy! Not bad for my first night back in the homeland, hunh? I love this country, why you leavin'?"
Conclusion to "Last Night in Brizzy. Ecstasy Anyone?" coming soon.
-strongmonty
Disclaimer: Ecstasy is a serious drug. Ingestion of MDMA can cause serious side effects. Get more information at: http://www.intheknowzone.com/ecstasy/chemistry.htm
I was determined to make the night something special, for ecstasy pills (or "ekkies" in Aussie slang, pronounced ek-eez) is not the easiest thing to wrap your talons around when you're flying from one city to the next.
It was a huge party. Not only did we have my departure from the country as an excuse to get messed up, but it was also a good friend's first night back from the Caribbean where she'd been dealing cards on the cruise ships. In the casino industry people are always coming and going. Her name was Sarah, and on top of being ridiculously gorgeous she was a harder partier and more ready to have a good time than any bloke I had come to know. Oh, and, as cupids cruel sense of humor would have it, a lesbian. Trust me, I tried… repeatedly. Short hair for a girl, she always had it styled expensively. That night its base was black but red highlights coming from her scalp gave her a devilish, seductive vampire look. She had a body that made heads turn in every club we went to. It didn't matter what sex you were or how you swung, she was one of those people you just had to watch.
In most cultures, being a gorgeous young girl can be quite beneficial, and nowhere is this more true than in the drug culture. This is due to the fact that most of your low-level drug dealers are made up of insecure, exasperating, young guys usually between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. They want to be popular, and they think the way to do it is to be the guy that everybody comes to, even if it's only because they don't know where else to go. By this logic they probably would have had just as much fun opening a convenience store. Oh my God! I'm so popular, everyone keeps calling me!!! Now you put a pair of boobs large enough to land a jet on in front of one of these kids and what do you think happens? If I give her cheap/free drugs I'm going to get laid! Awesome!!! They're sad to watch in action. I should know, I had been one of them… Ahhh…to be young again…well younger.
My rack wasn't much good at getting cheap drugs, but with a friend like Sarah I had the next best thing. Even though I new it was her first night back, I suspected she'd have no problem getting her contacts going strong once again so I asked if she wouldn't mind picking up some "party favors" for myself and a few others.
If you haven't done a lot of drugs you have to understand that it is very rare to ever get two batches of any type of man-made drug to be made up of the same chemical compound and thus the high is rarely ever the same twice. Creating something like ecstasy is not an easy procedure for anyone that has not done well in a college organic chemistry class, something that not too many ecstasy cooks have bothered with. All of this means that you never know exactly what your high will be like, how high you will get, when it will start, or even when it will end. It adds a little mystery, but usually about forty-five to fifty-five minuets after you pop a pill you start feeling the effects. The patient first experiences excitement followed by euphoria. Senses are heightened and inhibitions are torn to the ground and though hallucinations are rare they have sometimes been reported. The peak of the high will probably only last approximately an hour, but the entire experience will usually last around four.
The small city apartment of the co-worker who had volunteered to hold the party was jam-packed. By that point we had probably managed to cram forty or fifty people into the three rooms on offer. Looking around there were many people from the casino, but at least fifteen who I did not recognize as known drug users, at least not from any of my nights out. Sarah had not yet shown up, and I was slightly worried wondering how these newbies would react when the drugs arrived.
No sooner had the thought bounced through the soon to be abused neurons in my head than the door was blasted open and Sarah stylishly glided through. "The yummy things have arrived boys, eat 'em while their hot!" Sarah was obviously not one for caution.
After gliding her way to the couch that I had been finding quite comfortable, she jammed her experienced derrière between myself and an ex-fling belonging to the both of us, and threw her purse in my lap. I watched in eager silence as she scanned the bowls full of party snacks that were littered atop the new-age kidney bean shaped coffee table in front of us, decided upon the M&M's, grabbed the bowl and turned it right side up scattering multi-colored sugar coated aphrodisiacs across the glass and onto the carpet. A spout of laughter came from the mouths of onlookers whom had stopped their conversations to watch the amusing show that Sarah was always sure to bestow upon those lucky enough to be in her audience.
She placed the now empty black bowl back down and, without turning from her newly acquired workbench reached an upturned palm to me, "Purse please," an innocent smile curled her lips and I obeyed.
The purse opened, Sarah took out a plastic zip-lock bag and dumped its contents into the bowl, "Alright, listen up, and pay attention!" she said unnecessarily; dump drugs onto a table in the middle of any party and your going to get the attention of your party goers. "What we have here is a bowl of one hundred ekkies. They're on sale for the next fifteen minuets at thirty bucks apiece if you have a penis or twenty-five if you don't! If you think that's sexist, too bad, I'm the one with the drugs, and vaginas taste sweeter. After that anything that is left is going to a special driver downstairs and then they disappear so hurry up!"
Did I mention that this girl was a party queen?
As a mass of expectant fun-lovers began to form she turned to my ear and quietly added, "Getting them at sixteen a piece from my boy downstairs means you and me eat for free and I still make, hmmm…well you do the math, Roulette boy! Not bad for my first night back in the homeland, hunh? I love this country, why you leavin'?"
Conclusion to "Last Night in Brizzy. Ecstasy Anyone?" coming soon.
-strongmonty
Disclaimer: Ecstasy is a serious drug. Ingestion of MDMA can cause serious side effects. Get more information at: http://www.intheknowzone.com/ecstasy/chemistry.htm
Monday, September 1, 2008
Poker; Distractions During Battle
If you play poker long enough you're bound to hear the stories about casinos pumping oxygen into the air to keep you awake. This is all crap — a rumor started when a Vegas casino carried through an experiment during the 80's. I'm not absolving them of all their sins. They are still guilty of turning the A.C. down quite low; the human body stays more alert at colder temperatures. Yet, 62 degrees Fahrenheit is still not the core cause for why your eyelids rarely drift shut while sitting at the felt.
The real reason why you can't sleep in a casino, the reason you can stay awake forever, is that your brain is never allowed a moment to rest. Look here! No, no! Look here!!! Flash! Flash! Cherry, Cherry, BAR!! NO! Damn!! What now?!? Flash! LOOOOOK!!! What's this? What on earth is that?!? To be a successful poker player, one has to block all of this out. Put it out of your mind or the distractions will take over and soon enough you'll find yourself just another railbird making up some bullshit story to your friends about how your quad aces ran into a Royal Flush. Don't let in the lights and sounds. Like the word problems from your sixth grade math class, work out what the unimportant, unnecessary information is and discard it. In time you will see the numbers necessary to solve the problem.
-strongmonty
The real reason why you can't sleep in a casino, the reason you can stay awake forever, is that your brain is never allowed a moment to rest. Look here! No, no! Look here!!! Flash! Flash! Cherry, Cherry, BAR!! NO! Damn!! What now?!? Flash! LOOOOOK!!! What's this? What on earth is that?!? To be a successful poker player, one has to block all of this out. Put it out of your mind or the distractions will take over and soon enough you'll find yourself just another railbird making up some bullshit story to your friends about how your quad aces ran into a Royal Flush. Don't let in the lights and sounds. Like the word problems from your sixth grade math class, work out what the unimportant, unnecessary information is and discard it. In time you will see the numbers necessary to solve the problem.
-strongmonty
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